Her Kind of Trouble

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Book: Read Her Kind of Trouble for Free Online
Authors: Evelyn Vaughn
Tags: Romance
Comitatus.
    That's the problem with old wounds. They reopen.
    "The guy attacked me with a sword," I whispered.
    Rhys grabbed my hand, PDA or not. "Now wait a moment, Maggi. You were in a shop chockablock with swords. Just because this stranger used one does not mean he's a member of that secret order."
    Yes, Rhys knew,
I
hadn't taken any vows of silence.
    "They used ceremonial daggers, didn't they?"
    "There is a difference between the two. Even if there were not, even if the man were—" he lowered his voice "—Comitatus, that could mean
Phillip
Stuart sent him, not necessarily Lex."
    "But Lex is the only one who could have told Phil, and
how else did that man follow us from the airport
?" I freed my hand from his and waded through the crowd to the jewelry counter, where I could see the female clerk's smile in her eyes, over her veil. "Do you speak English?"
    "Yes," she said, nodding. "Yes. Rings for rings."
    "I don't want to buy—well, not a ring," I decided, since if I wanted help, I couldn't expect her to give it for free. I glanced impatiently at the cluster of cheap pewter pendants and quickly chose the horned disk that symbolizes Isis . "But I was hoping you could check
this
ring and tell me if there's anything strange about it. Anything like a…a tracking device?"
    The clerk stared at me blankly, as if disappointed. Apparently her English wasn't good enough to include
tracking device
.
    Great. "Is this a normal ring?" I tried, tugging the wedding band from my finger and sliding it across the counter toward her.
    Then I froze, because of what she'd just slid hopefully across the counter toward
me
.
    A brass chalice-well pendant—two intersecting circles, also called a
vesica piscis
. Similar to the pendant I already wore, had worn in one version or another since I was fourteen, except for the Arabic flourishes.
    Symbol of the Grailkeepers.
    ----
    Chapter 4

     
    When the hopeful clerk repeated, "Rings for rings," I finally understood her. I'd simply known the childhood rhyme as
Circle to Circle
.
    But circles, rings… they were all eternal loops. It lost little in translation. And it was a recognition code.
    "Never an end," I greeted softly, purposefully giving the next piece of the Grailkeeper's chant.
    She clearly recognized it. She beamed. I even caught a pale hint of white teeth behind her veil as she reached across the counter and grasped my hand. Her grip was firm. Then her eyes closed and she drew in a long, deep breath, as if savoring…
    What? Was she sensing the essence of goddessness that seemed to empower women whom I touched, of late?
    It wasn't like I expected her to rip off her veil and head scarf and demand equal pay for equal work. But when she opened her eyes, all she said was, "It is you!"
    Uh-huh… "What is me?"
    "You have come to reclaim the sultana's magic," she continued. "As in the tales."
    For a moment I had the sick feeling that there was an actual sultana out there somewhere. One more responsibility I hadn't meant to take on. Then I realized that my word for the position would be
queen
.
    "You mean like the fairy tale, about the queen and her nine daughters?" I asked.
    "Seven," corrected the clerk—but as surely as I'd heard different versions of the story, I'd heard different numbers. Sometimes the queen had as many as thirteen daughters, sometimes as few as three. "Seven beautiful daughters."
    Rhys, behind me, asked, "Does she mean the story where the queen gives her daughters magical cups?"
    The clerk's eyes widened. She backed away two steps, making what I assumed was a protective gesture.
    "It's all right," I assured her. "His mother is a Grailkeeper."
    She stared at me blankly.
    "A…Chalice Keeper," I tried.
    She nodded slowly and said, "A Cup Holder."
    "Um… yeah. A Cup Holder." Now that one suffered in translation. "He knows the story."
    Pour your powers into these cups
, the queen instructs.
Hide them so that your energy can live on even though you be forgotten
.
    The veiled

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